Often
I look back at old writing
Of days, weeks, or months ago
And can only cringe
In embarrassment or shame
But then, sometimes
I can look back at those same verses
Days, weeks, or months past
And see them differently
…
Some days it’s a bridge
Some days it’s a rainbow
Whatever it is today…
“Write!” I plead with myself
“Write!”
Write, and take in all that is seeping from these cracked masks
and loosely clawed fingers attached to…
…While I have not lived your life
I have lived mine
And mine has lead me to exactly who I am today…
Evening light dimming
Between two times and places
Existing and not
So much love to give
Like the infinite skies holding all possibilities…
Nothing lasts forever
Neither episodes nor greetings
One day, none left
No more
I race to catch them
but I turn around the thick green corner
brushing against it with a rustle
and I can’t see their outline ahead anymore
all I see is green and shadow
down the leafy corridor
…
Burning coals may have been smothered
Bitter nettles, processed
Until now, cooled and shredded, harmless
As long as I take care
To never swallow them again
Your fading presence will one day leave a hole in my life I’m not sure I could fill again.
You walk through my life with gentle steps, in shoes none other can fit.
One day the footsteps will become quieter. I’ll strain to hear them, and a sad echo will surround each distant tap.
.
July 12, 2025
(Reflections on a friend and predicted futures.)